


Study Buddies

by supersherlockian_pie



Category: Destiel-Supernatural, Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Child Abuse, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, castiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 19:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1481989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersherlockian_pie/pseuds/supersherlockian_pie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a sophomore at Rosewood High School. He's a smart student in all honors. One of his better classes is Chemistry. But that can't be said for senior Castiel Novak. He's failing for the second time in a row. He's a very popular jock at Rosewood. Dean has a hatred towards all popular kids. However, when their teacher assigns Dean as Castiel's tutor, things may change for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Destiel fan fiction, so bare with me here. I'm going to try to upload a new chapter every weekend.

A wall of warm air hit Dean as he walked through the front door of Rosewood High. he looked around, greeted by the usual sight. Groups of jocks standing by their lockers, their wanna-bees surrounding them. Girls laughing, probably gushing over some guy. Outcasts looking for somewhere, anywhere, to fit in. And of course, the Seniors, walking straight down the hallway, thinking they owned the place.

Dean was a sophomore, and it was around the end of the 3rd quarter. He was already sick og this school, and couldn't wait until the last day of his senior year. He walked over to his locker, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, finding the familiar blonde ponytail.

"Hey, Jo," he greeted his best friend. He unlocked his locker and grabbed his books for his first three classes, math, English, and science. He was in honors, so he was in Chemistry. There were multiple juniors and around three seniors in that class.

"You ready for that test in Chem today?" Jo asked, shooting him a questioning look.

"You have to ask me that?" he snickered. "Jo, I question your IQ more and more each day."

She kiddingly punched his arm, forcing a chuckle from his mouth. Suddenly, her attention drifted to someone else.

"God, those eyes are so dreamy," She said.

"Yes, but they belong to a no good dumbass failing Chem for the second time in a row. He's one of those popular seniors that are 'too good' for this school," Dean retorted.

"Please, we all know you love his eyes too," Jo countered, a devilish smile talking over her face. She looped her arm through his and began pulling him to their first class, Algebra 2, another honors.

"I'm not gay, Jo," Dean replied, his voice faltering on her name. His neck was hot, but he was thankful for being able to hide his blush.

"I know, I know.

*~*

The first two periods of the day went by extremely fast, probably because Dean's nerves were getting to him. He was more nervous for the test than he cared to admit.

"He walked into the classroom and over to his seat. He looked across the room to find Jo staring back at him. They exchanged smiles, and she mouthed 'good luck,' followed by him mouthing 'you too.'

Then the same stunning blue eyes walked into the classroom. They were paired with messy raven hair, a muscle shirt, and basketball shorts. He walked over to one of the lab tables and hopped up, flirting with the girl at the desk next to him.

"Castiel Novak, down, get to your seat. Now," Mrs. Nelson said, voice stern, as she walked into the class. "Remember, each question is worth one point each, making the test 100 points towards your total average. Fail this, you're going to have to pray your average is high enough to maintain a passing grade." With that, the test was passed out and students began writing.

Dean looked towards the back corner of the room, finding the bluee pools that were Castiel's eyes looking into his own green pools. His cheeks flushed and he turned away, cursing to himself. Why was that no good asshole staring at him? He wasn't anything special. Whatever, Dean thought, shaking off the thought. He focused on the test.

About a half an hour passed and Dean finished. He went through his answers, changed about four of them, and turned it in. Mrs. Nelson looked up at him and stopped him before he walked away.

"Dean, I would really appreciate it if you could stay after class for a few minutes." He tilted his head and gave her a questioning look.

"I'll explain then. Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I'll write a pass to your next class too." Dean nodded and walked to his seat.

Before he knew it, the bell rang and kids were filing out of the room. Everyone except Dean and Castiel were gone.

"Okay Castiel," Mrs. Nelson began. "You need to bring up your grade if you want to pass for the year. I've told you this many times, yet you refuse to take action, so now I am. You've met Dean before. Dean, from now on you're going to be Castiel's tutor. It's only from now until the end of the year. Can you handle that?"

Dean’s eyes grew with fear. He ran a hand through and stared at the ground.

"You're kidding right? I don't want some sophomore tutoring me. Do you know how embarrassing that is?" Castiel protested, anger evident in his voice.

"Castiel, you have no say in the matter," Mrs. Nelson cut him off. "Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean started. "Yeah, I can do it."

"Wonderful! I'll let you boys talk out the details in class tomorrow. Have a good day boys!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the chapters aren't that long. I wanted to upload at least two chapters and it's getting late, so I wanted to hurry. The following chapters will be better, I promise.

"What?! I can't believe she asked you to do that! But I REALLY can't believe you said yes!" Jo said. "But then again, his eyes are dreamy and you now get to stare at them more."

Dean just gave her the death glare.

“How many times do I have to say this Jo? I don’t care about his eyes,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed, and failing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He’s just so dreamy.”

The bus they were on came to a halt at their stop. Dean and Jo lived three houses down from each other, which was rather convenient because they didn't have to walk far if they wanted to hang out. Dean stood, grabbing his heavy backpack filled with textbooks, and let Jo get off first. They walked around the bus and headed down their street.

“When are you guys starting?” Jo questioned.

“I don’t know yet. Mrs. Nelson’s making us discuss that during class tomorrow. He’s probably going to eat me alive,” Dean said.

“Don’t say that. You’ll be fine, you’ll survive. Just have patients with him, and don’t punch him in the face. That wouldn't end well.”

“You don’t say?” Dean countered. By this time, they were reaching the front of Jo’s house.

“You coming over today or are you going straight home?” She asked.

“I have too much homework, I’ll text you later though,” Dean answered, giving her a brief goodbye hug.

“Alright. I’ll text you then,” Jo called over her shoulder, walking to her door.

Dean walked the rest of the way to his house and pulled his keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and let the familiar stench of alcohol fill his nose. He looked past the doorway and saw the familiar view of John, his father, passed out on the couch, an empty bottle in his hand. Dean walked over to him and picked up the other three empty bottles. The commotion awakened his drunk father.

“You’re home early,” John mumbled.

“No, you just woke up early.” Dean walked into their kitchen and threw the bottles out. He hated the fact that his little brother, Sam, had to come home to his father like this. Sam was five years younger than Dean, so he was currently in sixth grade. He was incredibly smart and had the maturity of a 23 year old.

“Dad,” Dean started. “You should go to your bed. I don’t think it’s healthy for Sam to see his father drunk all the time.”

“I’m not drunk all the time,” John said defensively.

“That’s debatable,” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, but apparently just enough for John to hear.

“What did you say?” He said, raising his voice.

“Nothing,” Dean replied, voice slightly more audible. John swung anyways. His knuckles collided with the black frames resting on the bridge of Dean’s nose, sending them down and skidding across the floor. Dean stumbled back, hands cupping his eye. He bent down to pick up his glasses, and John kicked his ribs.  
“Don’t you ever talk back to me again, understood?”

“Yes, Dad. I’m sorry,” Dean apologized. He saw a thin line going across the lens on the left of the glasses. It was on the top left corner, so it wasn't as bad as it could be. He stood, sliding them back on his face, hand tenderly touching his sore ribs.

“I’m going to lie down for a bit. Wake me up when Sammy gets home. I want to see him. I haven’t talked to him in a few days,”

You have nobody to thank but yourself there, Dean thought to himself, but he instead said, “Yeah, sure thing.” John walked off to his room, and Dean pulled out his books, beginning his homework.


End file.
